


Jaskier and the Wolf

by round_robin



Series: Tumblr Prompts [14]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dry Humping, Foot Massage, Insomnia, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: A collection of the Geralt/Jaskier prompts from my tumblr.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tumblr Prompts [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739158
Comments: 98
Kudos: 187





	1. “I like that you make me laugh so much that my cheeks hurt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is a play on "Peter and the Wolf," that was one of the only records I had as a kid (yes, I'm old) before cassettes and CDs started moving in. I still have it on CD somewhere in my parent's house and I can hear the opening narration.
> 
> This first one was a dialogue prompt from moonlightcrazyphoenix: “I like that you make me laugh so much that my cheeks hurt.”
> 
> The rating on this will definitely go up, tags to be added, each chapter will be individually rated. Please enjoy.
> 
> Rated T

The fire crackled merrily between them, Jaskier’s belly full for once. Geralt took down a huge buck and while salting the spare meat was a chore, the fresh venison for dinner was well worth it. Too many days in a row with stale trail rations and Jaskier was starting to forget what real food tasted like.

Deep in the woods, with no one around to hear them, Geralt was relaxed, laying next to the fire, watching the flames jump and dance, his face slack and calm. Jaskier liked seeing Geralt like this, he was certain he was one of the few people who got to see him so relaxed and open, unlike the cruel persona he had to adopt in human settlements.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said. He opened one eye and saw two yellow ones gazing back at him, a hint of a smile pulling at his cheek. “What do you call a werewolf with no legs?”

Jaskier blinked, chasing away the haze of after dinner lethargy. “I don’t know. What do you call a werewolf with no legs?”

Geralt snickered. “Whatever you want, he’s never going to come anyway.” Geralt’s snickers got louder and Jaskier smiled. They lapsed into their comfortable silence again.

“Jaskier. What do you get when you cross a griffin with a sheep?”

Jaskier’s eyes were fully open now, there was no way he was going to miss the beautiful way Geralt’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, trying to contain himself and failing miserably. “I don’t know.”

Geralt paused, pressing his lips together, trying to contain his smile. “A new sheep!”

The rich sound of Geralt’s laughter rolled through the air, and soon, Jaskier was laughing with him. “Are these the kind of jokes Witchers tell each other? They’re so _bad_!” And yet, he couldn’t stop laughing. He laughed so hard, he had to hold his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks. After a too long moment, Jaskier managed to get himself under control. “Oh, those were terrible.”

“But you laughed,” Geralt said. He rolled over onto his side, watching Jaskier across the fire.

“Mmm, yes. I like that you make me laugh so hard my cheeks hurt.” His stomach a little more settled now, Jaskier reached out, beckoning Geralt.

He rounded their little campsite and lay next to Jaskier, pressing their noses together. “I like making you laugh.” Their lips met in a sleepy kiss, Geralt sucking Jaskier’s bottom lip gently before licking into his mouth.

Both of them full from dinner and more than a little tired, the kiss didn’t go much farther. Comfortable and warm, Geralt dozed off first, his forehead pressed against Jaskier’s.

Jaskier trailed his fingers up and down Geralt’s arm, sleep pulling him as well. “And I love that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” A happy Witcher, the world didn’t believe such things existed, but Jaskier knew. And he thanked his lucky stars for it every night.


	2. "I don't care."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were stuck in a closet with half a Nilfgaardian battalion roaming the house they were in, they couldn’t afford to be noisy. Geralt wasn’t on any hit lists (that he was aware of) but dealing with Nilfgaard was the last thing he wanted to do today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue prompt from major-trouble: “I don't care,” and “Let got of me.” They didn't specify pairing, so I went with the classic Geralt/Jaskier. Our favorite boys are getting a little close while hiding from the black ones...
> 
> Rated M

Jaskier wiggled and Geralt tightened his grip on his arm. “Stop. Fucking. Moving.”

“My foot’s asleep,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt was very close to gagging him. They were stuck in a closet with half a Nilfgaardian battalion roaming the house they were in, they couldn’t afford to be noisy. Geralt wasn’t on any hit lists (that he was aware of) but dealing with Nilfgaard was the last thing he wanted to do today, especially after the soldiers killed their contractor.

“I don’t care,” Geralt growled. “Stop. Fucking. Moving.”

Jaskier shifted one more time, then stopped. Having found a comfortable position, Jaskier stopped wiggling and Geralt turned his attention to the corridor. He still heard boots, but they were two floors down. On their way out, hopefully…

Shifting again, Jaskier was suddenly closer. Much closer. Hips hips were flush against Geralt’s, and his movement started provoking… things.

“Here? Now?” Jaskier hissed. While the bard was a very sexual man, who believed almost anywhere was a good place for a tumble, in a closet, hiding from soldiers, was not one of those places.

“I told you not to move.” Geralt closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through his nose, trying to will his cock to calm down. As soon as they were done, he’d take Jaskier back to the inn and fuck him blind, but they had to survive first. If they could keep quiet, wait for the soldiers to leave, they’d slip away, no one would even know they were here.

The deep breath was not a good idea, as now Geralt had a nose full of Jaskier’s scent. He’d been trying not to sniff at him, what with their cramped quarters. Oh well, too late now.

He slid his hands down to Jaskier’s hips, pulling them tighter together. Maybe more pressure would counteract it, if he could just feel Jaskier’s warmth a little, it might calm his suddenly racing heart. Jaskier picked up on it when Geralt rolled his hips. “The fuck? You just told me to stop moving!”

“Just… give me, uh, a second.” Witchers had tight control over their bodies, but for some reason, Jaskier could slice through all that training, all those years of practice... Geralt didn’t know what sort of magic it was, and he didn’t care to find out. He only knew that he wanted Jaskier, Nilfgaardians be damned, they sounded farther away now anyways.

“Geralt, I’m flattered, but is this really the time? I know I’m distracting.” Geralt had told him as much, and Jaskier was very pleased about it at the time. “You could, I don’t know, let go of me?”

“No.” Geralt was fully rutting now, lost in the heated closeness of the closet. A few voices downstairs cursed and a door slammed closed. The soldiers were gone and Geralt picked up the pace, thrusting against Jaskier like they were teenagers sneaking a quicky between lessons.

“Fuck, Geralt, did they leave?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Hot lips found his and Jaskier fell into the rhythm he built, both of them thrusting until the stuffy air of the closet was thick with the smell of sweat, old clothing, and come.

After waiting a little longer to make sure the Nilfgaardians were truly gone, they fell out onto the floor and beat a hasty retreat back to their inn, the dead client all but forgotten.


	3. Witchers Give Good Massages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh, fuck, my... good gods, yes!” Geralt felt a flush high on his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: "Witchers have strong hands, good for massages..." and I produced this little thing. Enjoy <3
> 
> Rated M

“Uh, fuck, my... good gods, yes!” Geralt felt a flush high on his cheeks. He heard Eskel shift in his bed two rooms over, and Vesemir stopped pacing the library, listening in concern. Thank fuck Lambert wasn't home yet, he'd never live this down.

Vesemir already came in once while Geralt was massaging Jaskier's feet. He burst through the door, eyes wild, sword in hand only to find Jaskier falling to pieces as Geralt rubbed his sore feet. “Those didn't—he doesn't _sound_ happy.”

“I'm not,” Jaskier cried out. “I'm in fucking bliss. Oh yes, Geralt, get my arches. I hate that bloody mountain but it was worth it for this...”

Jaskier wasn't new to Geralt's strong hands made for rubbing sore muscles, he just simply had to keep his noises to himself most of the time. Inn walls were too thin, his moans of ecstasy while in a room with a Witcher might lead a concerned innkeeper to call the town guard. He usually had to bite down on his arm to keep his noises to himself, but Geralt made the mistake of promising “No one cares at Kaer Morhen, be as loud as you want.” To Jaskier, _as loud as you want_ , was very loud indeed.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're just so. Fucking. Good!” Most of Jaskier's knots melted instantly under Witcher strength, but a few stubborn trigger points needed work. Sounds of deep pleasure soon turned to hisses of pain. “Ah, fuck, I know you have to but that _hurts_!” When Geralt's strength blew through the knots, Jaskier melted into a puddle on the bed, his noises quieter now. “Thank you,” he mumbled into the pillow. “I'd love to repay the favor, but I don't think I can move. Roll me over and sit on my face, stick your cock in my mouth.”

“Oh, don't worry, I intend to.” They'd played this game before. Jaskier knew what his moaning did to Geralt, could feel the hard cock brushing against him. Oh yes, Geralt would get his reward, no doubt about it.


	4. Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, I forgot to tell you. It's, uh... the mutagens. They...” Geralt ducked his head, holding the shirt tight in his hands. “It's been hotter lately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from haewynfirebow, they asked for cutagens, specifically Cats or Wolf Witchers shedding their hair in hotter months. Since it's me, this is naturally much cuter and softer than they probably wanted it to be, but I enjoyed how it turned out. And I will never get tired of cutagens nonsese.
> 
> Rated M

Jaskier stared at the strands of hair left behind in their bed, unsure of what he was looking at... They were curlier, coarser than his head hair, but he ran a hand through it anyway. Nope, still thick and luscious, no thinning to be found. He was certain the hair wasn't there last night, and Geralt's lovely locks were white, and much longer. He looked over at his Witcher just to be sure. Again, nope, hair just as beautiful as ever, especially since he let Jaskier wash and braid it last night, leaving soft waves through it in the morning. Pushing it out of his mind, he finished packing and they set off.

That night when they made camp, he spread out their bedrolls nice and close, as always. Geralt looked up from where he was poking at their dinner and smirked at the way Jaskier spread himself out, communicating exactly what they'd be doing after dinner. They made love, Geralt whispering filthy sweet words into his ear, then they fell asleep curled together.

Jaskier woke up covered in hair. Not his own. Though it was difficult to tell from his own carpet of chest hair, the strands fell free as soon as he moved, disappearing in the grass or all over their bed rolls. With a frown, he shook them out and once again swiped a hand through his hair. It felt normal, and the hair didn't look like it belonged to him...

Before he had a chance to unravel the mystery, Geralt was growling for him to get a move on. “We're wasting the sun,” he grunted. So Jaskier finished packing and on they went.

With a bit of good luck (uncharacteristic for them) Geralt hit on a contract nearby and left Jaskier in the tavern to sing for their supper, so they both went to bed with newly full purses. Jaskier lounged back on the sheets, eyes on the slowly stripping Witcher standing before the steaming tub they just ordered. “I'll be over in a bit to wash your hair, my love,” he purred. “I just love watching you remove your armor, gets me all worked up.”

Another small smile and Geralt continued stripping, placing each piece aside to be checked and cleaned later. He was down to his shirt and smalls when Jaskier noticed something... different. Geralt's legs were smoother than normal. His calves were always smooth, the hair rubbed away by his boots and all his activity, there was also sparse hair on the inside of his thighs for similar reasons, rubbed away from riding. But he definitely looked smoother. Only the hair on his head was bright white, the rest of his body hair was a little darker, so there was a marked difference.

Jaskier opened his mouth to ask when Geralt stripped his shirt and a perfectly smooth, hairless chest appeared. Jaskier's eyes went wide. “Geralt, what the fuck happened?” Geralt wasn't as covered as he was, but there was definitely something there, the other night even, when they fell asleep together, Jaskier remembered running his fingers around one lovely nipple, wisps of dark hair curling around it.

An eyebrow arched and Geralt looked down at his chest before a blush stained his cheeks. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. It's, uh... the mutagens. They...” he ducked his head, holding the shirt tight in his hands. “It's been hotter lately.”

They'd had this (admittedly) strange conversation before: the mutagens that turned Geralt into a tough and capable Witcher had some side effects, namely small animal traits. They didn't disrupt the job Witchers were created to do, so the mages never thought to breed them out or find a way to fix them. Personally, the more Jaskier heard about what the mages had done to get Witchers the way they were, the more he wanted to drown every mage on the Continent in a vat of their own potions. But these side effects that made Geralt blush whenever they came up were frequently cute, a little strange, and totally manageable. Enjoying a soft hand petting through his hair, or needing a good sniff of Jaskier was fine, lovely even, and the hair thing was... it was manageable.

“Dearest,” Jaskier whispered, standing up from the bed and walking over, laying a hand on that decadently bare chest. “You don't need to be shy about it, it's me, remember? I'm traveling with a Witcher, I understand there will be an odd thing or two.”

Geralt nodded, but didn't lift his eyes. “In the summer, my hair, it... sheds. Not on my head, just my body.”

 _Oh good_ , Jaskier thought, the didn't even want to entertain the thought of Geralt's lovely locks falling out. “That sounds fine, I'm sure we'll manage, just need to shake out the sheets a little more.”

Geralt shrugged. “It's mostly done, it's all... it's all gone.” His hand dropped to his small clothes, the only thing remaining before he was ready to hop into the bath.

“May I see?” Jaskier asked, voice soft. He dropped a hand down to cover Geralt's, providing comfort, support.

Without another word, Geralt dropped his small clothes and Jaskier got an eyeful of his cock. He'd seen it before, of course, but never like this, the lovely pink thickness looked so much bigger without the thatch of dark hair at the base, Geralt's sac so invitingly soft. Jaskier wanted to stroke his fingers over it, worship it with his lips.

He took a breath and nudged Geralt towards the bath. “It needs careful cleaning like this, hair is protective you know, keeps you from getting dirty. I'll make sure you're well taken care of.”

No longer ducking his head, Geralt smirked before pulling Jaskier into a burning kiss, his cock already hard and pressing into his thigh. “You always do.”

Geralt climbed into the bath and Jaskier took great pleasure cleaning him all over, watching soap suds slide down his hairless chest, cupping his tender balls and running a thumb over the smooth skin. It would grow back, Geralt assured him, which Jaskier was happy for, he enjoyed the warmth of Geralt's chest hair pressed against him, but for now, this was fine as well. More than fine in fact. After they were done in the bath, Jaskier went down on his knees and licked every inch of newly bared skin he could find.


	5. Epic Poems of Epic Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt shouldn't be surprised, the bard never stopped moving, elegant hands flapping everywhere as he spoke, one perched on a cocked hip, his toe tapping as he composed, shapely backside shimmying around their camp when he was supposed to be making dinner, distracted by the tune in his head... so of course Jaskier moved when he should be asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested Geralt having sex with insomniac Jaskier. I fear I may have projects a little on this one, sometimes I can't turn my brain off and the sleep doesn't come... but I don't have a Witcher to fuck me to sleep, so Jaskier is lucky there. Make no mistake, this is soft and sweet <3
> 
> Rated E

The other side of the bed shook and Geralt tried not to grit his teeth. He was _almost_ asleep that time, but Jaskier kept fucking moving around. He shouldn't be surprised, the bard never stopped moving, elegant hands flapping everywhere as he spoke, one perched on a cocked hip, his toe tapping as he composed, shapely backside shimmying around their camp when he was supposed to be making dinner, distracted by the tune in his head... so of course Jaskier moved when he should be asleep.

The bard growled, sat up, punched their _shared_ pillow, and rolled over. Again. Geralt closed his eyes and tried to ignore him, until he did the whole routine _again_. “Fuck Jaskier, just go to sleep!”

“Don't you think I want to?” Jaskier shot back up, sheets pooling around his hips and leaned forward, head in his hands. “I can't sleep! Haven't been able to for two full nights now.”

Geralt pushed his irritation back as concern came to the forefront of his mind. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Jaskier's back, rubbing gently up and down. “I didn't know you couldn't sleep last night either. Was it... because of me?” Geralt was out on an all night hunt, which was most of the reason why he was tired now. They'd eaten, bathed, and now all he needed to feel up to traveling again, was a good night's rest. If worry over him robbed Jaskier of his own sleep...

With a soft, yet tired smile that wasn't as bright as usual, Jaskier shook his head. “No, not really. I know you have things well in hand, but sometimes if I'm alone, the woods are too dark. I started composing in my head, working on an epic poem I've been writing since before I left Oxenfurt. I add to it when the mood strikes, the only problem is: I can't shut it off sometimes.” Raking his fingers through messy hair, Jaskier sighed. “The curse of a creative mind, I keep fucking thinking, will this stanza work better in a different spot, should it be a spoken ballad or set to music? Then I have to write the damn music and I start thinking about _that_.” The hands in his hair pressed harder until Geralt heard him scratching at his scalp. He took Jaskier's hand in his to stop him, but kept listening.

“My mind is too loud. I'm excited by the ideas I have, but I've gone upwards a week before without proper rest, only an hour or two a night, as more notes, more rhymes flutter behind my eyes. I wish I could make it stop, tell my traitorous brain to shut up for two fucking seconds.”

“Mmm, I never want that,” Geralt whispered. He was still rubbing Jaskier's back and that seemed to help, his shoulders were no longer bunched with the tension of a too exhausted body, too awake mind at war with one another.

Jaskier snorted. “The man who asks me to shut up at least thrice a day doesn't want my mind to be silent? That is a marvel.”

“Yes, I don't like when talk sometimes, it's... distracting. Before we met, I was used to listening to the forest, the animals, the world. I enjoy listening to you, but sometimes silence is what I want. You should try it sometime.” He nudged Jaskier's shoulder before wrapping both arms around him, pulling the slightly smaller man onto his chest. He opened his legs, settling Jaskier between them and resting his chin on top of his shoulder. “However, I'd never want to silence you completely, no way, no how. I'd miss the sound of you the way I miss the sounds of nature.”

“Is that flattery I hear?” Jaskier shuffled around, getting comfortable against Geralt's firm chest. You wouldn't think to look at him, what with all his muscles and the armor he usually wore, but Geralt was very comfortable to lay on, especially right after winter, when he still carried the bulk of the season, his chest and stomach soft and plush, perfect for resting one's head.

Geralt's chest was always a masterpiece and Jaskier squidged down until his head rested between those glorious tits. He sighed, closing his eyes. A trill of notes played in the back of his head on repeat and he frowned. Even with Geralt's steady heart so close, he couldn't drown out the noise in his own head.

Geralt's arms squeezed around him. “Tell me this story.”

“Poem.”

“Fine, tell me the poem. Sing it to me if you wish.”

Jaskier smiled. “No, I don't have the energy. An epic poem is like a story though—”

“That's why I said it.”

“The beginning is rather rough. I started it _before_ I left Oxenfurt, I didn't have many adventures. Not until I met you.”

“So what's it about.” Geralt squeezed Jaskier again, enjoying the human so near. They were always close, but there was something special about nights like this, where they had no where to be in the morning, no pressing matter to attend to, they were here to rest. Geralt wanted to help Jaskier finally rest.

“It's about a young man who leaves home, and tries to find his own way in the world. His family isn't cruel, he doesn't come from an evil step mother situation, they're just... he wants to make his own destiny, not be locked into theirs. He walks along the road, meeting travelers as he passes. First, a book salesman, who says he will give him great wisdom, but the book he promises is filled with nonsense words, the young man hasn't seen enough of the world to understand it yet.

“Next he meets a beautiful Countess, she invites him to her bed. She offers him gold and jewels, the finest things he could ever want, but the gold is cold against his skin, because there's no true love there, just a hollow entertainment. And that's not what he wants.

“He continues on, entering a great hall of learning. Here, he'd be able to understand the books, he'd be able to feel love warm against his heart. But these books aren't enough, he races through them all and still feels empty, so he goes back into the world and meets a man made of moonlight.”

Geralt smirked, hands rubbing over Jaskier's chest. “I take it that's me?”

“Oh, very much so. And as they go on together, the handsome man teaches him about many things he could never learn in books, about love and looking deeper than someone's skin, seeing their true self and loving them wholly, completely.” Jaskier trailed off, but he wasn't asleep, eyelids perhaps a little heavier.

“How does it end?” Geralt whispered.

Jaskier shrugged. “Haven't gotten there yet.” He held tight to Geralt's arms, fingers digging in almost too much to be considered a hug, but Jaskier needed to hold, needed... he needed Geralt to know. “I hope it doesn't, not for years, and years, and years. That's why it's an epic, takes a long time to get where you're going.”

Hands so very soft, Geralt pulled Jaskier up, turning him around until their lips met. He didn't know what to say, but he suspected he didn't need to say anything. Jaskier was very open with his feelings, Geralt, less so, but he got the message, he always did. Jaskier's life wasn't worthy of an epic story until Geralt came along, and the bard was perfectly fine with that. And so was Geralt.

He slid one hand down Jaskier's chest and wrapped around his cock, which was hanging half hard between thighs strong from all their travel. “Lay down?” Geralt whispered. He spooned up behind Jaskier, his own cock slotting between his cheeks. They'd get there in a moment, but for now, he wanted to touch. Rough, scarred hands slid down the soft, furry planes of Jaskier's body, almost petting him. All that fuzz... he liked to tease, but secretly loved it, Jaskier was always a warm, soft place to rest his head.

Playing with Jaskier's foreskin a little, he felt the wetness at the tip of his cock start to spread, welling until it dripped down. Geralt caught it on his fingers and licked it away, sighing at the taste. “Geralt,” Jaskier gasped. “Please.”

Their slick wasn't far away, Geralt didn't even have to leave the bed to get it, didn't have to stop touching Jaskier. He opened him carefully, letting his lips and teeth dance over his neck and shoulders as he worked. When he sunk inside, they both gasped, their fingers lacing together. Geralt pulled his hips back before thrusting in again, oh so slow, so Jaskier would feel every inch of him. It wasn't long until he had a shaking, babbling bard in his arms, and he just held tighter, stroking his cock until Jaskier came, not with a moan or a groan, but a quiet sigh, as silent as he got most of the time.

The clench of his inner muscles, the smell of his come coating Geralt's fingers, pulled him over too and he thrust once, twice more before spilling. Normally, he'd bite down on Jaskier's creamy shoulder, leave a mark for them to look fondly on later, but Geralt suspected there was a mark on Jaskier's soul that belonged to him and him alone.

They lay there panting for a while, neither wanting to roll away and break the warm silence around them. Geralt ran his nose behind Jaskier's ear and whispered, “Things a little quieter in there?”

“Yes, I believe they are. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Sleep.”

Though Geralt was exhausted, he stayed awake until he heard snoring, then joined his bard in sleep.


End file.
